“Fair enough.” Briona lifted her wine goblet in a toast. “It’s a bargain.”
Jubilee snatched hers up, raising it high. Her smile was wide enough to cover every gable and cupola on Righthoof Manor. Saeldian picked up their cup and raised it. They drank.
Something slid along the bottom of Saeldian’s goblet and bumped their lip. Red wine dotted the tablecloth as Saeldian put the goblet down too quickly. Their lip was cold where it touched, cold that seeped into their mouth, coated their tongue, and tingled in the back of their nose. It was no use, but Saeldian shook their head to banish the feeling. The magic sank into their bones.
“Don’t drink that!”
Too late. Jubilee had caught whatever it was in her lips and let it fall into her palm. “What’s this?”
“Your promise,” Briona said. “Mariel.”
The burly woman slipped out the door faster than Saeldian expected.
“Our promise? What did you—” Jubilee let it fall to the tablecloth. “How did you even palm this? You’re on the other side of the table. This little rock wasn’t in there before.”
Briona couldn’t have put that rock into Jubilee’s and Saeldian’s goblets without them noticing. It was a rock, wasn’t it?
A pair of silver tongs rested on a small plate at Saeldian’s place setting. They fished out a stone from the bottom of their own goblet, which knocked on the tablecloth as it landed. Briona couldn’t have dropped the stone into their cup without them noticing. But the goblets were real silver, so there was no way to see to the bottom. And the wine had been poured before they’d settled in.
Simple. Elegant, even—or it would have been if Saeldian had done it.
“Prestidigitation cantrip,” Saeldian said. “An apprentice’s trick. You didn’t palm the stone a moment ago. It was in there all along.”
Red wine wicked along the tablecloth’s threads, spreading beyond the stone’s shadow. The stone itself was plain grayish-blue with a hole near one edge, smoothed and rounded by water, unpolished.
Jubilee bent to peer at it. “But what is it?”
Casters used all kinds of objects to channel their magic. Saeldian had never seen a spell that asked for a stone like this, but the sum of everything that had happened added up quickly.
“I have a guess,” Saeldian said.
“Do you?” Briona asked. “I’m curious. You’re doing an impressive job of identifying my technique so far.”
“There was a spell on that stone, wasn’t there? An enchantment. To make our toast a vow.”
“Clever.” Briona raised her goblet again. “You do know your enchantment spells.”
“But how did you do it?”
“Ah, ah. That’s a secret,” Briona chided. “It shouldn’t matter. You voiced your agreement already. This is just a way of putting it in writing.”
Jubilee set both her hands on the table. “I don’t appreciate being bound to a job we already agreed to do, friend.”
Jubilee was too good to cause trouble in a room with only one exit, but Saeldian had been in Waterdeep long enough to knowthat was a clear warning that there would be trouble if Briona didn’t back off. They leaned back and tried to keep their tone just as mild. “Can’t say I like it either. Why the insurance?”
“Because I’m giving you an advance.” Briona slid a bearer envelope to Jubilee. Saeldian’s heart sank. They were bound, but Briona’s generosity was just more rope. “The other half of your team knows as much as you do at this point. You can hear the rest of it together.”
The other half of their team? The other two place settings. Saeldian had thought they were for the real employers, then forgot to wonder further when the meal carried on. A blunder. Saeldian’s wits addled by gold dragons.
The door opened for the same servers, laden with trays of more hard cheeses, gaspingly expensive southern fruit, and dozens of those fancy little cakes Waterdeep had loved all this year. They brought teapots and five cups, and as they walked out, Mariel entered.
She stood aside to admit a handsome orc even taller than she, and when he could raise his head from ducking under the doorjamb, Saeldian saw the braided ends of his hair held polished stones and glimmering silver oak leaves. The torc around his neck was fashioned from engraved curving antlers. His friendly smile showed off long, pointed teeth. Everything about his clothing and jewelry felt handcrafted and carefully made. A druid. Saeldian knew a spellcaster when they saw one, and everything about this orc declared that it was nature that supported his skills.
The orc smiled at everyone. “I worried we would be late. The rooms are so comfortable. But I left the window open, and something has the robins swapping tales. Terrible gossips, robins.”
“Saer Lorzok! You’re right on time, as it turns out. The bed was long enough, then?”
Lorzok stood aside as someone else stepped in, but the orc stood in the way of Saeldian’s seeing more than the worn tip of a fiddle case. “Perfectly! I couldn’t resist stretching out and reading for a bit.”
